


go on and sound your horns (go on, release the hounds)

by AlexSeanchai



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir Acts Like a Cat, Blackmail, F/M, Fluff, Identity Reveal, Panic Attacks, Podfic Welcome, Season/Series 03 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-08-13 05:42:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20169085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexSeanchai/pseuds/AlexSeanchai
Summary: Ladybug🐞:call meLadybug🐞:call me NOWLadybug🐞:CALL MEHer phone rang: "Hey," said her partner, low and determinedly calm. "Breathe, okay? I can talk in a minute, just breathe—in, two, three, four—" He kept going, and Marinette matched her lungs to his words, and by the time he said "Okay, found some privacy," she thought maybe she could speak."Someone—" Okay, maybe not. She tried again: he had to know, heneededto. "Someone knows who I am."





	go on and sound your horns (go on, release the hounds)

She wouldn't fail him. She didn't expect to—they had planned this too well—and she didn't dare let herself. She _would not_ fail him.

Ladybug was working at a disadvantage today, and didn't know it: the akuma, an art student who felt her boyfriend was getting unfair credit for _her_ work, was making all the usual noises about stealing Miraculouses, and it wasn't as though Hawkmoth would object if this one succeeded, but that wasn't the point. The point was, _said the spider to the fly_. Mayura and the sentimonster were helping keep Ladybug and Chat Noir fairly confined, Hawkmoth had somehow arranged the battlefield beforehand to limit the so-called heroes' options for where they could hide to recharge (smirking all the while, no doubt, about how immature they must be for _needing_ to recharge), and Lila?

Lila lay in wait.

Ladybug landed in the alley, looked around, and ducked behind the dumpster. Lila blinked away the pink sparkles and did a double-take.

Oh, this was too good. She couldn't have planned this better if she'd _tried_. Getting Ladybug's Miraculous would be _spectacularly_ easy now: just convince her that Adrien invited her to his house, wait till she was inside, and when she wasn't looking—

The little red thing—a ladybug spirit, Lila supposed, though it looked more like a flying mouse, without even the dignity of bat wings—finished scarfing down a cookie. "Tikki," said Marinette Dupain-Cheng, "spots on!"

Ladybug launched her yo-yo and shot into the sky.

Lila waited thirty seconds, attention back on the Ladyblog livestream on her muted phone, and pushed up the lid on the dumpster. Hawkmoth was going to be _so_ proud of her.

…after she showered.

* * *

Lila waited in the lycée courtyard a bit longer than perhaps she ought to; her admirers were nearly all headed to class by now. Of course this was more important than her attendance record, but also, _of course_ Marinette would choose _this_ morning to be late!

Marinette barreled through the doors, croissant hanging from her mouth and purse flapping behind her. Lila put herself in her way.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" babbled Marinette, picking herself up off of Lila and offering her a hand up. "I didn't see you—"

"No, you didn't," said Lila, quiet enough the nearest person—five meters or so away—wouldn't hear, and watched her expression snap from apologetic to angry. "And yes, you're very sorry."

Marinette glared.

"You didn't see me yesterday afternoon, either," said Lila. "In the alley with the dumpster. Did you, _Ladybug_."

Well. Credit to her. Lila truly hadn't known Marinette could hide her emotions that well.

"I have a deal for you," Lila continued. "Give me the Black Cat Miraculous—let _me_ be Paris's second-favorite hero—and no one else will ever find out."

"Right," said Marinette, flat. Lila _had_ told him that was too obvious a trap. "And what happens if I don't?"

Lila made a show of examining her manicure. "Your father has already been akumatized, hasn't he?" That mattered for more reasons than threatening Marinette's family, she suspected. "Wouldn't it be a pity if he were again."

"That's what I thought." Marinette was—what was that _smug_ look for? "Tell whoever you like. Tell all of Paris. Tell Hawkmoth to his own face if you get the chance."

—What? But that—she didn't—

Marinette smiled just a little wilder, vicious and victorious. "Who will ever believe you?"

* * *

Marinette bolted into the relative safety of a stall in the thankfully empty bathroom and fumbled for her phone. Tikki was trying to calm her, focus her, _five things you see, four things you feel,_ and it was a very good technique that she'd use in a minute but _first_—

Flip to using her phone as though it were her yo-yo. Text app. Chat Noir.

> _Ladybug _🐞_:_ call me
> 
> _Ladybug _🐞_:_ call me NOW
> 
> _Ladybug _🐞_:_ don't come
> 
> _Ladybug _🐞_:_ wish you could
> 
> _Ladybug _🐞_:_ CALL ME

It rang: "Hey," said her partner, low and determinedly calm. "Breathe, okay? I can talk in a minute, just breathe—in, two, three, four—" He kept going, and Marinette matched her lungs to his words, and by the time he said "Okay, found some privacy," she thought maybe she could speak.

"Someone—" Okay, maybe not. She tried again: he had to know, he _needed_ to. "Someone knows who I am."

Chat Noir sucked in a breath and started swearing in Mandarin.

"Okay, so on a scale from Grandpa Jade to Hawkmoth, how much of a crisis is this?" he asked, after wrapping up a particularly detailed insult to Hawkmoth's maternal grandmother. "Who are they, and who might they tell?"

"You calibrated that scale wrong," Marinette snapped. "The scale goes _Chat Noir_ to Hawkmoth. Grandpa Jade's down near the kitten end." Chat yelped, exactly like a startled cat, and— "Are you purring?"

"—No!"

"That's too bad." He totally was. "Sounds like it might be soothing."

"—Oh?" A pause. "Where on the scale, though?"

Good question. "Potential danger level Hawkmoth? I don't know, though—she's trying to blackmail me, she wants something from you, one guess what—" Chat growled. "—yeah, exactly, and if I don't then she'll tell _everyone_." Marinette drew in a deep breath. "The question is will anyone believe her. I told her I think no one will, but I don't think she believes me. _I_ don't believe me."

"We'll find something," Chat told her.

She wanted to believe him. She wanted to believe him _so much_, but this wasn't _like_ that first battle at the Eiffel Tower: this wasn't knowing something specific needed to be done and she was the only one who could do it, knowing how many people were watching and judging her—watching and judging _Chat Noir_, who deserved all the accolades even if _she_ didn't—knowing somehow, impossibly, he believed she could, and that meant _she could_.

This wasn't like that.

"…If nothing else," Chat said, "and I don't like this option but I'm being reminded it's an option, you know how they say three can keep a secret?"

_If two of them are dead._ "Please don't," Marinette said at once. It was certainly something Chat Noir _could_ do: get Lila alone, careful not to let anyone see him doing it, and call up Cataclysm. Bye-bye problem. "I can't even tell you how much I love that you're offering—" She couldn't, she _really_ couldn't: the bright champagne-bubbling sweetness in her chest felt uncomfortably like what she was shoving out of her way every time Adrien crossed her mind now. "—but please don't."

"All right," Chat promised.

Marinette swallowed. "It's Lila Rossi."

"—oh, _her_," snarled Chat. "Are you _sure_ you don't want me to? Because I have plans. She keeps hurting you and she keeps hurting M—my other friend—and I want to make her _stop_."

"Please don't," Marinette repeated. Damn ethics anyway.

"I won't. But I'll daydream about it."

"Fair," Marinette decided.

Though it was not fair that Lila knew and _Chat Noir_ didn't. Not in the least.

"—Tikki?" she asked. "I wanted him to know first."

She heard Chat's sharp inhale.

He still thought Marinette was in love with Chat Noir, didn't he? Great; this was going to get awkward in a hurry, if she did tell him. Hawkmoth probably knew Marinette was important to Chat Noir—she'd hoped not, she'd hoped (but hadn't dared ask whether) Chat had said nothing to Papa-Garou to suggest it, she'd hoped Hawkmoth hadn't known the details of the situation he was sending his butterfly into; if Hawkmoth knew, he was keeping that card in his hand—but no sense chancing it further.

(And if somehow Chat Noir _did_ think Marinette was—was anything like Ladybug—well, she could repeat that particular line and it wouldn't be a lie.)

"You should tell him," Tikki answered. "I keep wondering why you haven't decided it's hurting him too much to keep secret any longer."

Marinette stared at her. "You couldn't have mentioned that sooner?"

"What did she say?" Chat asked.

"Am I hurting you?" Marinette demanded. She was, of _course_ she was, she'd known that for a long time—but the idea that she didn't _have to be_? That was— "The—the not knowing—is this hurting you?"

Chat sighed. "Always has."

Well. That was enough of _that_.

"Meet me tonight." Marinette pushed herself up. "We can work out what to do then, if nothing's exploded already. I need to go deal with being horribly late to class again. I'll—I'll see you tonight?"

That was supposed to be an unhesitant declaration.

"Of course," said Chat Noir.

* * *

It was harder to control her shakes without her partner's voice in her ear. Marinette made it to lunchtime without more than Adrien and Alya noticing something was wrong, though—and Lila, who hardly counted—and if she had any idea when Chat's schedule had lunch hour, she might have asked to meet him then. As it was, she headed to the cafeteria and picked up a tray, trying not to let it rattle too visibly.

Across the room, Lila was chatting with Alya. That—looked like it might be about to be a problem. Much as Marinette loved Alya, much as Ladybug trusted Rena Rouge—and Adrien was paying attention, too—

—Yeah, that was Alya's camera app coming out, wasn't it. Damn it.

Marinette returned her attention to the lunch line.

"And we are _live_ on the Ladyblog with a _huge_ scoop!" exclaimed Alya. "Here's Lila Rossi."

"Ladybug's name," said Lila, loud enough to cut through all the conversations, and Marinette didn't have to see her to know exactly how venomous that smirk was, "is Marinette Dupain-Cheng."

Silence.

The weight of a hundred pairs of eyes.

Adrien's laughter.

Marinette stared at him: he was doubled over and shaking with the force of it. "Bullshit!" he got out, wheezing. "She _never_!"

Lila was gawking at him along with half the students; Alya was moving to, most likely, get Adrien, Marinette, and Lila all in frame.

"Marinette is _madly_ clumsy," Adrien told Alya's livestream the moment he had enough breath to straighten. "It'd take her way too long to learn the ropes of being a superhero. Ladybug—I think I saw her trip once or twice after Reverser got her? Nice going, Marc," he called to a nearby table.

Marc threw a bun at him, rolling his eyes; Adrien caught it, grinning.

"And Ladybug's costume has, like, _no_ detail work," he continued. "Chat Noir's has all these pockets and zippers and the tail, practical stuff, but I think the bell and the toe beans are just for aesthetic? Ladybug looks like someone painted her outfit on with a texture brush. Marinette's a _fashion designer_, Alya, she would not be caught _dead_ in that costume."

Actual lies, but most of the faces Marinette could see were nodding at his words and glancing skeptically at Lila. She'd take it.

"And you're Ladybug's best friend, Lila. You said so yourself." That grin—if that were Chat Noir, not Adrien, she would definitely be able to see just enough fang to know Chat meant business. "You and Marinette hate each other's guts. And _Ladybug's name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng_."

Alya fumbled her phone, mouth open.

"One of these things," said Adrien, "is not like the others."

He took the phone from Alya's hand, tapped its screen a couple times, and handed it back. Then headed straight for Marinette, biting off half of Marc's bun.

"Want to get away from the paparazzi?" Adrien asked her. "I'll pay for lunch."

Marinette set down her tray and nodded.

No one said a word as they left the cafeteria.

Adrien set a course for, he said, a café with particularly good roast beef sandwiches. Marinette honestly could not care less where they were going; he could walk her straight into a sewer for all the attention she was paying to anything but him.

Madly clumsy, he'd said. Learning the ropes, he'd said.

Yo-yo cord? Rope. Staff balanced between two roofs, with Chat Noir balanced on it? Tightrope.

The fifth time she glanced up at him only to see him jerk his gaze away, she gave up: "You look like the cat who got into the cream."

He hadn't, actually. He still didn't: he'd plastered on his model smile—a trick, it now occurred to her, that probably had a lot in common with the resting Barbie face Chat Noir had taught Ladybug—and was now watching her calmly. "I categorically deny having anything to do with any dairy products whatsoever. Except for Camembert, which is the queen of cheeses."

Chat Noir hated how carrying Plagg's emergency food supply made him smell, and never (unlike Ladybug) had to worry about being tempted to eat it himself. "Chaton, I can see your milk mustache."

Adrien swiped the back of his hand under his nose and frowned at it, then sneaked a glance down at her. Marinette pulled an overly unimpressed face.

"I guess we don't need to meet tonight, then?" he asked, with a slant to one corner of his mouth that usually accompanied Chat's drooping kitten ears.

She shrugged. "We don't know for sure if she told him anything before that went live or not. We definitely don't know what he believes. So we still need a plan."

Adrien nodded, watching the other pedestrians.

"But we could do that in my bedroom," Marinette proposed. "With cookies and Mecha Strike."

He startled badly enough to trip over his shoelace.

Marinette stifled a giggle at Adrien's _I meant to do that_ expression. "Let me get that," she said, dropping to one knee to retie the offending shoe, then took his offered hand up, and didn't let go.

Adrien's cheeks went ever so lightly pink.

"We do have to talk," Marinette continued, pretending she didn't see that, as Adrien steered them over to what must be the café he chose. "I mean. Why do _you_ get pockets?"

He snorted, joining the line of customers. "You get more storage space, and you can take that off without actually stripping."

"That is just a marketing gimmick to sell more purses and you know it!"

Adrien blinked down at her for a long moment. Marinette started laughing first.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is a celebration of my hitting a follower milestone on Tumblr. I asked for prompts and I ended up using ones from sparklyaxolotlstudent, galahadwilder, and (offscreen) cheshiremadd; I planned to use gothfoxx's too but it didn't fit.
> 
> Find me on [Dreamwidth](https://alexseanchai.dreamwidth.org/) and [Tumblr](https://alexseanchai.tumblr.com/).


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